Faltering Reserve
by fleur de lys blondie
Summary: Riza is caught in a double-bind after offering herself the leisure of a night out one evening after work. Set a week after chapter 83, mangaverse.
1. Chapter 1

_This story is set a week after chapter 83, before chapter 84 in the manga. It's my first work of fiction and english isn't my first language, but I do beleive I managed to get a good start!_

* * *

**Faltering Reserve**

Roy unconvincingly slid the key into his apartment door, swung it open and crept in. He switched the hallway light on, not bothering with the other ones. He was in a rather sulky mood anyway he thought, as a wry smile etched itself on his otherwise tense traits, so semi-darkness could only be considered fitting this evening.

With a half-conscious sigh, he proceeded forward to his living room, lazily undoing his jacket and dropping it on the nearest chair before taking a few extra steps, kneeling down and opening the small wooden doors of his liquor cabinet. He picked up the half-empty bottle of scotch before him and inattentively began pouring himself a glass, his eyes somewhat unfocused. His actions didn't translate a hint of anticipation, the gesture being more mechanical than anything else. With another sigh, he turned his gaze to stare out the window, put the glass to his lips and took a small sip as he considered the evening sky. As the warm beverage made its way down his throat, his left cheek slightly crept up his face while his forehead creased and he got out of his absent-mindedness to consider the brown liquid in the glass before him... It needed ice, for Christ's sake, but he didn't even feel he had the energy or will to even reach his freezer to get the stuff. He was usually really picky about his drink's temperature, but nothing felt like it mattered enough right now. Indifferently, he drooped down to settle his worn out body on the chair just behind him, glass still in hand.

As he rested on his seat, he couldn't keep from flinching this time at the little sharp stabbing pain he had just felt once again in his lower left abdomen while sitting down. The damn injury was not healing fast enough, and it pained to have it bother him every time he made the slightest bending movement. The feeling was a constant reminder of his vulnerability, something he would really rather not be forced to deal with, let alone acknowledge. Reluctantly, he took another sip from the glass, anything to distract him from the uncomfortable sensation...

The right corner of his lips rose a little to form an insincere smile that didn't reach his eyes as he quickly reviewed the last few weeks' events in his mind, especially the one before last. So much had happened recently, it sometimes felt that it was months, years ago that he was calmly and "simply" aiming for the top with his supporting crew. His subordinates... A frown took over his former expression as he brooded over the depressing circumstances. He had been stripped out of his power, his help, even somewhat of his _self-confidence_ dammit, to be reduced to a leashed dog more or less lost at resorts in the current situation. He did have a few remaining, though: a handful of people were still available to communicate some degree of information to him, not to mention that he could count on a half-retired general out east in the boondocks to back him up on his plans. But none of that could compare to the previous resources he had available at hand before this mess.

He drew some more liquor out of his right hand before remembering its offensive temperature, but he managed to contain the grimace this time, other matters already monopolizing his aversion. He continued to dwell on depressing matters as he considered his position once again. The Fuhrer had made it clear that he was not to be fool enough to believe he had any margin of maneuver in the events that would be to unfold in the near future, and that the fact that he was still alive was something he should be grateful and obedient for. Of course, Roy Mustang would never admit defeat in any way, his self-proclaimed purpose incompatible with the concept. Might as well die rather than give up on reaching his goal. But who was he trying to fool? He unconsciously let his left hand trail to his abdomen, his scarred skin and tender wounds resting just beneath it under his white shirt. He shaked the faint-hearted thoughts away as rested his glass on the table next to him and he studied his hands, hoping to find a hint or what he truly was worth in them.

As his eyes trailed over the many lines inscribed in his palms, he firmed up his resolve, scolding himself for his momentary lapse in determination. He flipped his hands over and his gaze stopped on the back of his right hand once again. The marks of the sigil he had carved within it not so long ago was still clearly etched throughout its width. The lacerations would probably leave a permanent mark, his skin being more fragile in that area, partially a result of his overuse over the years of his gloves which bore the same symbol. The irony truly made him smile this time as he considered that this didn't really bother him: it would serve as a good reminder of what he was willing to endure to reach his goals.

He kept his eyes focused on the same spot from lack of a better thing to do, and the sight of that lesser lesion brought back a displeasing memory. Both of his accompanying subordinates had lost conviction during that Lust incident... Havoc had been almost fatally injured, but the most unsettling thought to the Colonel was that he had soon after considered himself rendered completely useless by his paralysis and asked to be abandoned by the team. Although he hated to admit it, somehow, he kind of understood the poor bastard. Of course, that never meant that he would accept it, but he felt his lack of will didn't compare to what his first lieutenant had demonstrated just before he had arrived to finish off the enemy.

She had completely given up on their plans upon believing him dead. Hell, the woman had even given up on her own life, while there was still clearly a way she could have managed to escape, Alphonse doing all he could to protect her. That was simply inexcusable, and was certainly the single most upsetting thought of all. What was the point in following their plan if they didn't even accept to follow though its basic principles? You have to survive, no matter how, to protect those below you. Never give up, regardless of the circumstances. He let out a ticked off grunt before picking his glass back again and lowering the level of its content a few notches down.

Suddenly, a feeling of solitude washed over him as he let the tingling feeling settle in his throat. He was alone. Or was he? He knew he could still count on his subordinates even if they were scattered all across the country, but a feeling of powerlessness still overwhelmed him. No, a feeling of loneliness, rather. Or was it? He couldn't quite tell, but it had something to do with longing. He longed for the company of his former pawns, so to call them, even though he had come to consider them friends with time regardless of the nature of their interactions.

He drank some more of his scotch as he came to the realization, for the first time, that he felt he missed the most the one that was geographically closest to him. He chuckled at this thought. True, she was closer to him than the others, but it still felt as though she was the furthest from his reach. He pondered on those particular feelings. After all, they had known each other the longest, and he couldn't deny that they shared a special... bond. She knew his secrets, he knew hers, and he believed that she plain just understood him. That lieutenant of his sure knew how to read people, and he was no exception. Ironically, he felt he understood so little about her sometimes, some of her actions still managing to surprise him out of his socks over the years. He smiled as he raised the glass to his lips another time only to realise it was now empty. He poured out some more ("just a little more"), and let his thoughts linger on the subject.

Now that he somewhat acknowledged it, he allowed himself to come to the conclusion that he really missed her. He took a gulp out of the freshly filled glass and he didn't even notice the temperature this time, the numbing effect of the drink starting to reach him and leaving more room for his thoughts to form ideas he hadn't questioned before. It had been a whole week since he'd even caught a glimpse of her, and he mentally cursed himself for hiding behind those curtains in Havoc's room the last time he had an occasion to interact with her. Was it really necessary to take such exaggerated precautions, anyway?

The Colonel started lifting his glass once more before coming to a halt. Drinking alone was so depressing, not to mention pathetic. He painfully (he hated to admit) got up and turned to his dresser to rid himself of those military pants and change into something more casual before picking up his jacket and finding his keys. If he was going to do this, might as well get out and "refresh" his thoughts in the nearest bar.

-x-

* * *

-x-

As Riza Hawkeye allowed herself a quick look at the clock in the Fuhrer's office, she couldn't help but hope for "early" dismissal this evening. Out of the corner of the eyes, she noticed the small arrow reached the number eight and she let out a barely inaudible sigh. She quickly regretted the slip-up, surprised at her own lack of professionalism. Maybe fatigue was getting at her after all... although she was used to working longer hours with her former superior, she seemed more drained of energy than ever since assisting the top military authority in the country.

In any case, this certainly wasn't due to the nature of the tasks she was trusted with. In fact, she had never felt condemned to such an important number mindless duties before her most recent position. Taking care of paperwork and serving the occasional cup of tea was far from being the most straining job, and she even found herself yearning for some sort of physical training to keep her senses sharp and alert. Indeed, the first lieutenant was not used to feeling so useless, if at all, having always focused most of her will and actions to devoting herself to her most important duty: to watch _his_ back and protect him.

It was a simple task in nature, although certainly not as easy in carrying out into action. However, she had to admit it brought her a certain amount of pride; behind her humble and professional demeanour, she harboured a simple satisfaction at knowing she was good at it. No, she had been excellent. Not only was it the source of her reasonable self-esteem, the goal behind it was the origin of her drive, and she felt it gave her life a purpose, if not an excuse to keep on living without remorse after all the sins she had committed during the Ishbal war. Although fundamentally altruist, she had to admit the journey she agreed to take on bordered on selfishness at times.

Now, however, not only did she lose that feeling of accomplishment, she was become a _hindrance_. Of some sort. She certainly wasn't helpful as a hostage in any case, if you scratched out the occasional leak of information she managed to share with the Colonel through cryptic exchanges. If it weren't for those rare occasions, she could swear she wouldn't find the will to go on with her military duties.

She refrained herself from chuckling softly and contented herself with inward smile. That man was the glue holding her to her sanity. Oddly enough, it was the same person who managed to make her lose it when he put himself in reckless situations after acting on impulse or doing something wildly arrogant, like confronting the Fuhrer even while being forced into a corner before him. Behind his deceiving facade and his haughty artifices, she could still admire the naiveté he still had embedded within him.

She gazed up from the document she was currently revising to rest her eyes on the older... being, for lack of a better term, sitting in the chair across the room. She usually had an easy time figuring people out, or so she like to believe, but she couldn't help but be puzzled by this particular individual. Perhaps it was because he resembled her so much on the exterior – he didn't let out much on the side of emotions from his expressions. That thought set a few chills down her spine... had she just compared herself to him? She was afraid to admit, but she hadn't felt any particular loathsome sentiment towards the Fuhrer since she'd been assigned to assist him. He had actually proven to be quite the gentlemen, and hadn't let on any disdain towards humankind before her, if not only curiosity.

She shook her head and lowered back her eyes on the paper on top of her desk – she couldn't allow herself to lose focus. This man was the enemy, he was a homunculus, even if he didn't seem or feel so as much as the others of his kind.

"You can have your rest for this evening, Lieutenant Hawkeye." The Fuhrer's words startled her as they broke the silence that she had grown accustomed to over the last half hour. Realizing she was being freed for the day, she quickly but politely rose up from her chair and straitened the documents she had been partly focused on.

"Thank you sir."

As usual she didn't feel any more words were necessary, and she hurried out the room and proceeded to the building's hallway heading for the closest exit. As she let her eyes trail to the shadows surrounding her, a feeling of dread tangled with fear crept over her as it always did since that evening with Pride. No wonder she was exhausted. The most annoying thing was that she knew that he couldn't truly be watching her that often... the whole ordeal was so frustrating it made her nauseated.

After a brisk walk through the now less busy streets of central, she was soon to her apartment building and let out a sigh of relief at this sight. Faint remnants of daylight still managed to reflect upon the sky from the almost setted sun, dressing it with a rather purplish tint. It was a contrast with the darker setting that she'd come to expect when leaving work recently, on account of she hadn't been discharged this early in a while. As she reached her door and opened it to a very enthusiastic Hayate, she smiled warmly for the first time in the day and didn't let the pup wait any longer for his well deserved stroll around the few surrounding blocks. Poor thing couldn't get out of the house anymore... and evidently he wouldn't dare do in the apartment, being so well toilet-trained.

"How have you been today? Been waiting for me? I've missed you too," she addressed him on a playful tone as he proceeded keenly to offer his little legs the exercise they required, tail wagging frantically along the whole time. She laughed mentally at how pathetic she had come to feel – she now talked to the mutt more like she would to a normal person than to a dog, having lost most occasions to truly conversate with other people during the day since the Fuhrer had been holding her back until the latest hours over the last week. How lonely she had come to feel in the past several days... As her pet finished his usual stroll and was done with his business, he looked at her in a somewhat quizzical manner, tilting his head slightly to the left.

Usually, she'd already started to walk him back home, but she stood undecided. She was beat-up as usual – a good night's rest was in order – but she felt she needed some sort of distraction today. The dog let out a small protest of annoyance over her inaction, and she finally resigned herself to resuming her usual routine.

As she walked up the few flight of stairs back to her apartment (the only form of exercise left to her) and re-entered it, she was surprised at how uneasy she felt. It's not that she felt that _it_ was around this time – she was convinced she was somehow aware of Pride's presence when he was near, her job over the last years essentially obliging her to develop some sort of sixth sense – she just couldn't bear the idea of ending this day once again completely alone and secluded. She needed to interact with people, even if only at the simplest and most basic level.

Hayate curved up around her legs and let out an attempt at a comforting bark as he felt his master grow uneasy. The blonde's eyes mellowed and she curved her mouth in a disheartened smile and kneeled down to stroke her companion on the top of the head in affectionate, repetitive gestures.

"I'm sorry. I really need to get out. I know you've been alone, too... but I could really use a change of ideas, Hayate."

The mutt's eyes flashed with the same vacant expression of obliviousness, and she snorted at her failed attempt to even communicate the simplest thought with her four-legged counterpart. She got up and stretched before heading towards her bathroom for a well-deserved shower, then changed into something more comfortable and headed out for the door.

-x-

* * *

-x-

Roy pulled out the nearest stool and rested his left elbow on the bar counter as he proceeded to sit down as comfortably as possible. As per usual, the few women in the room seemed more than enthused to see him and were already clinging to his sides, giggling and tugging on his jacket in a seductive ritual.

"Well well, what have we here?"

Madame Christmas was not the most attractive woman, and her unfeminine voice, a side-effect likely attributable to the cigarette that seemed to permanently cling to the side of her mouth, did little to compliment her style.

"Haven't seen you in a week, at least. Been busy, haven't you, Roy?"

"Not so much," he responded flatly, before forcing himself to present a sincere-looking smirk, "But it's always a pleasure to see you, madame. And you too, Sylvia," he added as the enticing shoulder-lengthed brunette on his right pouted at his neglect of her presence.

Sylvia cultivated the same relationship with him as Madeleine and Vanessa did, which consisted in serving as an informant of various "trivial" matters in exchange for an interesting sum of money that helped them grab hold of the latest fashion items they had their eyes set on. Pretending to date the Colonel wasn't such a bad thing in itself either – He was quite popular among women, and a little envy from others was always a satisfying bonus.

Those women were the ones that warmed up to him the most and never refrained from hiding their excitement when they saw him in his outings. That didn't bother him much... it went well with his intent of giving off an image of a ladies' man, and the appreciation was always welcome, too. From what he could tell, they probably wouldn't be too unwilling if he were ever to try to further their interactions, either. But he knew where to draw the line, and these sources were too precious to risk muddling up his links with them.

The other occasional women he'd date never seemed to stay too fond of him after he'd dumped them, unlike the unconditional affection his tipsters harboured for him. Obviously, the former would rather not see him perpetually flanked with a new damsel every other week in public. For Roy Mustang new his stuff with the female gender, and losing the privilege of exclusivity definitely left them with a bitter taste in the mouth.

"So what'll it be, another special? Or are you here to pick up another gal?" The broad-figured bartender inquired.

"No, I'd do with just a glass of scotch, if you'd please." He inclined his mouth into a sloppy smile as he let out a small sigh.

Madame Christmas raised an eyebrow at his defeated demeanor. She furrowed her brows before continuing, "Aren't you still recovering from those injuries? Should you be drinking by now already?"

"I'll be fine, but thanks for worrying. Can't even feel the damn thing anymore anyway, it's practically healed," he lied as he averted her suspicious stare.

"Fine. On the rocks, as usual, I guess."

"Sure, why not," he conceded as he tilted his head sideways, his somewhat unfocused gaze directed at the wall before him. He wished the liquor would just get to him quickly enough to continue numbing his senses and block any depressing thought from further invading his mind.

The woman passed a hand on her slicked, greased down hair that ended in a drooping ponytail which rested on her left shoulder. She took another quick look at him. "Are you already drunk, Colonel?"

He chortled a little at this statement, and closed his eye into an endearing smile before resting his chin on the back of his hands. "No, I'm not. Do you think I would betray you like that, Madame? I trust you and you only with my drinks, as you know best how to serve them."

"You're a cheap liar, Mustang." She turned around and poured him some of his favourite dark beverage. "So what requires your cheering up this evening?"

"I can cheer you up, Roy-San", Vanessa purred into his left ear and he turned to look at her.

"You always cheer me up, Vanessa," he said flirtatiously.

"Aww. You should come around more often." She blushed slightly at his remark and straightened up away from him, as to demonstrate a certain degree of prudery.

"Still not over Elizabeth?" The matron asked simply.

His face dropped at the comment. He'd just managed to rid himself of that particular thought, and the reminder was not exactly welcome. "I just haven't been feeling at the top of my form these past days." He took in a larger amount of the drink in his glass than planned for just moments ago, and dropped it unceremoniously on the counter.

The matron gave a satisfied smile. When it came down to it, the man before her was just a simple as all the others of his kind. "Women, huh."

The two girls encircling him let out a bunch giggles at the remark, Sylvia sliding her arm around his waist in an attempt at a comforting and simultaneously provocative gesture.

The Colonel didn't react at the touch, more focused on emptying the glass in his right hand to drown the unwelcome thoughts parasiting his mind.

"Here, have another, but after that you should give it a rest." Madame Christmas handed him a second drink before addressing other customers that had just arrived. "It's on me for tonight. Cheer up Roy, sulkiness doesn't suit you."

The commanding officer progressively surrendered himself to the dulling effect of the alcohol he'd been ingesting and eased up a little as the women around him persisted into warming him up to them. Well, if this was to be his hell, it wasn't that bad, for the time being.


	2. Chapter 2

Riza Hawkeye wandered the streets of Central, letting her glance occasionally linger on the faces of the various strangers hurrying up and down the alleys of the city to disappear in the nearby buildings. The sky had now slipped into its darker attire, the soft moonlight stretching out timidly through the scattered clouds. The main source of luminosity in the area however was now emanating from the various street lamps that lit the avenues and the nearby shop and bar windows that were bright with buzzing activity.

She had always been used to the calm of the country and had no trouble evolving in a placid environment relatively void of any excitement. However, since her transfer to Central weeks ago, she had to admit she didn't mind the action either. It's not that she actively took part in a lot of the social outings available to her, but the people-watching was an activity in itself that she concededly enjoyed. She silently contemplated the various expressions on people's faces scurrying around in the crowd; a few girlfriends laughing about in a night out, young couples still walking about glued to each other, others more detached, even families on weekend outings.

But tonight she longed for slightly more. She would occasionally stop by at Adrienne's, a teashop four blocks away from her building, and sometimes engaged in a brief chat session with the owner while sitting down with a hot cup of the stuff. Nevertheless, however kind the shopkeeper was, she couldn't nearly be considered anyone close, and Riza yearned for someone to share to some degree her troubles with, even if it had to be behind the artifice of a fabricated setting and fake aliases. The problem was that most of her closer friends – well, all _three_ of them – were left out back in the East under General Grumman's command. She hadn't had the occasion to bond solid friendship ties with anyone since her devotion to the Colonel, so most of her friends were people she had met while still at the academy.

Upon dwelling on the matter, she scolded herself for being so weak. What was she thinking, giving in on weariness to even consider discussing the complex affairs at hand? She damned herself for being so tired, and pursued her stroll through the alleyway.

That's when she thought of Madame Christmas's. She knew the woman was well informed and headed a secret correspondence network from Central to Eastern, and the concept of greeting someone who was linked to the familiar notion of the East was a comforting thought. She had been there once or twice herself very briefly around the time she had just settled in Central, just out of curiosity, but had never lingered for more than five minutes. Bars weren't exactly her thing anyway, at least not while on her own on evenings. She would leave that kind of hobnobbing to other type of women more concerned with... trifling activities.

As she continued to think of how uneasy she would feel in such a setting, she took a right turn towards the bar's direction, located three blocks ahead.

She soon reached the entrance of the busy meeting place, and she paused a few seconds in front of the closed doorway before going any further. Soft buzzing noise and a faint sliver of light came emanating through the portal's threshold. The blonde sighed. This kind of ambience could make her uncomfortable; she always felt awkward while sitting alone in a place she knew stares would occasionally be directed at her, but she wasn't the type to ever let on any such wavering of confidence on her part. She needed the distraction anyway, she convinced herself, and she took a small breath while pushing the door open and stepping in.

She quietly observed her surroundings while the door closed back behind her, ringing the bell strung on top of it. It was reasonably occupied this evening, she considered, as she undid her jacket and pulled out the bar stool at the corner of the room nearest to the exit. She waited for the bartender to get to her while actively ignoring any possible stare she might be attracting since her arrival. As the large woman turned towards her most recently arrived customer, he eyes widened into a shocked expression before addressing her.

"Riza? What a surprise! What brings _you_ here tonight?" Madame Christmas looked at her quizzically. "I never expected to see you any time soon, given you must be overwhelmed with work. Congrats on your new position, by the way." She took a furtive look in direction of the Colonel's corner. Well, it made more sense now; he had probably come here to arrange a meeting with her in a seemingly casual context.

"Thanks", she answered stiffly. "I guess... that's kind of why I'm here. I needed a little change of... setting," she proceeded as she hesitated in her choice of words, although she managed to make them come out quite coolly.

"Really, that's all?" Madame Christmas tried to exchange a knowing smile to the unflinching woman before her. They were really working their way smoothly over this one. "So what can I get you? Beer? Rhum? Vodka?"

"I think a simple cup of tea will do for tonight. I really was just looking for a distraction."

That's when she noticed.

Oh god. He was here. The Colonel was there, just around the other extremity of the bar counter. She had completely overlooked the possibility of running into him in such a place, especially _here,_ for crying out loud. She hadn't noticed him at first since the two women smothering him had blocked him from view until now. What situation had she just put herself into? This kind of encounter could seem highly suspicious, she panicked, as she started searching for a way of getting out of there as soon as possible.

But another feeling gained some control over her when she saw Sylvia nuzzle closer to her ex-commanding officer, his arm slung around her shoulders, hand drooping dangerously close to her right breast. She knew of his little game with women, his facade and how highly practical the whole thing was in deceiving any suspicious enemies, but she had always avoided seeing him in action.

How she hated the thought of him with all these women. It irritated her how he never quite aimed for the brightest bulbs in the tanning bed, either – of course, it was meant to be that way – but they were always really pretty, or so his reputation let on. Well, from what she could see, he seemed to hold up to it quite well.

Madame Christmas noticed her stiffened features at the sight of her former superior, and settled on the conclusion that this might have actually not been planned. "Here's your tea hun'."

"T-Thanks," she let out unsurely as she was caught off-guard, and she summoned all her might to regain her confident demeanour. With a little luck, he'd be too busy to notice her, and she could take off as soon as she'd finished her cup. Taking a sip, she mentally cursed its hot temperature from preventing her from drowning it in a few chugs.

Across the room, Colonel Roy Mustang lifted his head up. Unless he was seriously stuck with desiderative ideas, he had just heard a familiar voice.

"L... Lieutenant?" His eyes widened as he caught sight of her, and he had to blink once or twice to make sure it wasn't just the liquor taking its toll on him. He really looked kind of stupid in that frozen moment, she decided, as she reluctantly made eye contact with him.

"Hello, Colonel," she replied simply, looking nonplussed.

"Riza? Isn't that your scary first lieutenant, Roy-San?" Vanessa asked airily.

"Err ..." He didn't really know how to act or respond. The sight of her had triggered something within him that he couldn't really put words on right now. All he knew is that he suddenly wished he could get rid of these two chicks on either side of him as quickly and effectively as when he snapped with fingers to form a spark. Sylvia felt him tense up and caught on a little faster than her chestnut-haired counterpart.

"I'll be right back Roy, I just saw Henry over there and I really have to go say hi." She pulled away from him to blow him a kiss and winked before turning away, making sure to properly sway her hips on her way to the back of the room. It took Vanessa a few extra moments to catch on, and she let out a sincerely exaggerated sigh before throwing Roy a dolled up farewell of her own and kissing him on the cheek before getting up as well. It was no fun if he wasn't going to be giving them his undivided attention, anyway, so better move on to other distractions.

"What are you doing here?" He finally managed to spill out coherently enough. He was glad to see her, that he acknowledged, but what where they supposed to do now?

"I was just in need of a change of scene. I'm tired, I just came out for a cup of tea," she answered truthfully.

"In a bar?" He was being kind of rude and direct, but she figured he must have taken a few drinks.

"Well..." She didn't really know how to get around this one. She couldn't find a subtle way to communicate that she just wanted to talk to someone who might be slightly inclined to comprehend her situation, even if it was just going to be through a silent understanding. "I just wanted a change of setting, like I just said."

He smiled at this, reading a bit too far into her words. "And you're having tea? Madame, please serve this woman a proper drink. It's on me." He got up and came to rest on the free stool next to her, completely ignoring the familiar small throbbing pain on his left side as he sat down.

"I—I should really get going, Colonel. I have to work in early tomorrow." She tried to seem convincing, as she figured she better avoid meeting with him in the current circumstances. Clearly the Colonel was slightly out of it, and she felt it was her duty to prevent him from putting himself in situations he might regret eventually. He seemed to have forgotten that she, that _they_, might be constantly watched by the homunculi and that the slightest encounter would surely raise suspicions on their side. Of course, he had seemed to catch on since her chat in the cafeteria with him over a week ago, but then he wasn't slightly inebriated either like he was right now. She started to get up when he caught hold of her wrist.

"Donworry. It's a public setting. They won't suspect as much," he semi-slurred, his voice only cut down in half.

The few lines between her two brows formed a crease as she contemplated him more thoroughly. How the hell could he let slip out such an imprudent statement, where anyone could have heard him? He hadn't even bothered to cover up the meaning of his sentences in any way.

"How many drinks have you had, sir?"

"I let him have two," Madame Christmas interrupted, "But Vanessa and Sylvia served him two more while I was busy with other customers, if I'm not mistaken, and I'll be damned if he hadn't already had some before he even arrived here." She slightly shook her head disapprovingly before she finished polishing the inner surface of the glass in her hands. She'd have looked considerate if it hadn't been for the ash falling out of the extremity of the cigarette anchored on the corner of her mouth.

"Sir, you shouldn't drink so much, especially not in your condition," she worried and scolded him at the same time. That stupid man, he was always so irresponsible when it came to taking care of his own self. Surely his body didn't process alcohol as quickly as he'd be used to while he was still convalescing. It had already been a few weeks since he'd been injured, but given the severity of the wounds, she didn't doubt there was still a certain way to go before he could claim to have fully recovered his health.

"Have a drink with me, Lieutenant." He was just glad to be able to interact with her for the moment.

"I just said –"

"I won't drink if _you_ have a drink with me, my treat," he chuckled. "Now, are you going to ditch me like the other two? A man can only take so much, Hawkeye."

She was getting annoyed at his mindless insistence, but she studied his features before saying any more. His expression conveyed pleasantry and sarcasm, but his eyes betrayed a certain loneliness, and she succumbed to the sad quality in them. "Fine. But I can't stay for too long."

The barkeep handed her some sort of martini and she smiled at the irony she was being faced with, in spite of the dry feeling in the back of her mouth caused by the liquor running down her throat. The colonel would have never dared to faint an advance on her while she was still in his command, even if it wouldn't have been supposed to be taken seriously. But they were officially not commanding officer and subordinate anymore, she considered. Obviously, that changed nothing between them, but she wondered if it was this particular transition or the alcohol that let him take new liberties, however lightly they were to be taken.

She straightened up when she realized he was letting his gaze linger a little too much. "I wouldn't advise you to stare, sir, it's unprofessional, not to mention rude."

He was taken aback slightly at first, but quickly recovered into a smirk. "But you can't blame anyone for doing so when you present yourself so... nicely." She was wearing her hair down, and he couldn't help but admire her sense of fashion. The few times he'd caught a glimpse of her outside office hours, she had always managed to maintain a stylish but elegant attire. Not to mention that he had a little something for skirts, which she almost always wore. Granted, they were knee length or longer, but they always complimented her so well. She currently wore a simple cream low-cut tank over the black one she had on right now, with a nicely cut light grey blouse covering her shoulders.

Her cheeks flushed slightly as his remark, and she was once again reacquainted with the notion that this meeting was utterly reckless. They had worked so hard to stay undercover, they couldn't risk all of it because of some momentarily lapse in judgment triggered by personal feelings and alcohol.

In fact, even in regular circumstances, she had always avoided getting too close to the man next to her right now. It wasn't any trouble for her to control the feelings she had for him as long as she kept their interactions professional and relatively distant. She had come to fall in love with him, but she unwaveringly accorded more importance to the carrying out of their plans to reach their goal and make him Fuhrer. Nothing was to stand between her and that determination, not even her feelings. On a side note, she also doubted the reciprocity of the sentiments, many clues having led her to believe he wouldn't open up to anybody that way, his personal ambition occupying too much of his focus to even let similar feelings to bud in his mind and heart.

Besides, Hawkeye was aware of her image and what she let on to others. It even took her fellow coworkers a good deal of time before they warmed up to her, and she didn't abound in feminine qualities most men sought for. Just as it had been somewhat difficult for her to consider spending time in a bar like this, she felt much more at ease with military duties, guns, dogs, and one-on-one social interactions. She didn't mind, either.

Still, she decided she would keep her word and finish this drink. She took another sip – this one didn't taste so bad, she noted – and tried to remain as silent as possible.

"How have you been?" He inquired, a look of concern drawing itself on his handsome traits. He was being really easy to read in his current state, every single emotion so easily decipherable on his face no matter how hard he tried to look otherwise, and she held back a laugh at the childish quality this was attributing him.

"Fine. The days are long, but none of the tasks are too complicated. In fact, it's quite simple work, when it all comes down to it, really," she conceded. Evidently, they wouldn't trust her with _real_ confidential information or ask her to participate in carrying out their plans, whatever they were. She was just being held hostage. As she brooded over the matter, she figured she might as well take advantage of the situation and share her melancholic sentiments with him – wasn't this what she had come here for in the first place? There was no confidential information there, either. It would actually _be_ light talk. "No, it's nothing tiring, but I've... I've been feeling exhausted," she continued, hoping he'd catch on the reasons behind that last statement. "And lonely." She stared into her glass and drew another good sip out of it before putting it back on the counter.

He studied her expression, feeling it took him more conscious effort than usual to process every possible meaning of her words and variation of her countenance. He felt lost at words to follow hers, so he fell silent and settled with staring at his hands folded together on the table. She took the silence as a sign of understanding, and decided that was enough to make her feel better. In fact, his simple presence did seem to appease her right now.

"I feel lost at times. On my own, I find it hard to see where I fit," she let her feelings translate into words more easily as the warmth in her throat left by the drink reached her now slightly rosy cheeks. "But there's really nothing to truly worry about," she continued, afraid to expose an overly fragile image of herself. "None of my convictions or resolve have changed, _sir_," she insisted as she made sure to get his attention on that last remark and steadied her gaze into his. This seemed to satisfy him and he let a natural smile, a real one that reached his eyes, draw itself upon his face.

"I'm proud to have had you under my command over the years, Lieutenant. The Fuhrer is a lucky man to have such a devoted and talented aid at his side. I wish you the best in the career bestowed upon you." She accepted the compliment she caught in between the lines of his last sentences, even though it didn't help at making her feel better about the situation.

"How have you been, sir?" She asked him, but got no response. "You should take better care of yourself in your condition. I can tell your wounds are still bothering you. Please don't cause me too much worry as I can't babysit you constantly anymore," she sighed and finished her glass.

He smiled, but then she just realised that it wasn't at her last statement. As she let her stare fix on the counter before her, she realised there was not one, but two empty glasses. And they weren't scotch glasses.

"Sir... Have you ordered a second drink for me without letting me notice?" She looked at him angrily, and he couldn't help but laugh lightly at her angry attempt of a scold.

"You didn't seem to mind." His smirk widened a bit, "In fact, considering the pace at which you drowned those two glasses, I'm guessing you needed them."

She couldn't believe she'd let her guard down. She rose quickly to her feet, but a feeling of wooziness momentarily took hold of her and she brought her hands to her temples in an attempt to stabilise her vision. That damn, irresponsible colonel. She really needed to double her vigilance for both of them when he was in this state, she concluded. Seeing at how unstable the matters might get, she decided it would be best to leave before either of them might let something too important slip out inadvertently.

"You're leaving?" He looked disappointedly at her from where he still sat down.

"You should be going too, Colonel, if you want to be in early enough tomorrow morning."

"Aw geez Lieutenant. Cut me some slack, will you please?" He continued along playfully, but still got up to leave as well, supporting his weight on the counter where he dropped a sufficient amount of money to cover the evening's tab, forgetting that the two first orders had been free of charge. As he took a step forward he tripped over the stool he hadn't cared to move aside, and nearly fell to the ground.

"Sir!" The woman caught hold of him before he did any more damage, and picked up his jacket that he was about to forget on the adjacent stool.

"Perhaps you should make sure that he gets home safely, Riza," Suggested Madame Christmas. She had settled for muteness up to now, but she eyed them watchfully, a hint of displease in her look.

"You have to be kidding," she sighed. "I'm sure he can make it on his own without too much trouble. You aren't driving, are you, sir?" She knew she couldn't risk staying with him too much longer, especially if they were going to be spotted alone.

"'Course not," he grumbled as he tried to straighten up, but she felt him lose balance under her grip. She wasn't sure of the result if she tried to let go, and preferred to stay put for the moment.

"Suit yourself," warned the woman behind the bar. "Just be careful, Roy."

The younger woman frowned... There was no way she could trust her Colonel on the streets in this state. She had no trouble imagining him find his way to his apartment, but the idea of him traveling alone in such a vulnerable state worried her more than she knew she should. With one last resigned sigh, she picked up her coat and purse and proceeded in placing the slightly older man's arm around her shoulders and hers around his waist to better support his weight and headed for the exit.

"Sorry for the trouble, Madame. Have a good evening," she called out, her head turned around over her shoulder.

"No worries. 'Been nice seeing you, Riza." A satisfied smile etched itself across the large woman's lips as she watched the two officers force their way out the door.

* * *

_Well, I guess I'm done with the second chapter already. Please review, I'd love some feedback, good or bad!_


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